Mademoiselle replied by a comic scream of indignation.
If I was the brave and gifted man for whom she took me, I ought to be ready to perish rather than leave out an inch of her anywhere.

Dress was her passion, and it would be an outrage on her sentiments if I did not do full justice to everything she had on--to her robe, to her lace, to her scarf, to her fan, to her rings, her jewels, and, above all, to her bracelets.

I groaned in spirit at the task before me, but made my best bow of acquiescence.

Mademoiselle was not to be satisfied by a mere bow; she desired the pleasure of specially directing my attention, if I would be so amiable as to get up and approach her, to one of her bracelets in particular--the bracelet with the miniature, on her left wrist.

It had been the gift of the dearest friend she ever had, and the miniature represented that friend's beloved and beautiful face.